The Stargazers

by Allison M. Dickson

  Ruby shrugged. “I guess it was my way of keeping the peace. Or maybe a way to get her to love me a little more. Who knows.” She took a drink of coffee and Aster heard the first songbird of the day outside the window over the sink. Soon the insects in the trees would start up their one-note symphony. She hoped to get to Mama Iris’s before it got too hot.

  When the little bell next to the stove rang, Ruby got up with her potholders and pulled two high loaves of golden bread out of the oven. “I noticed a small harvest from the strawberry vines out back, so I decided to put them to use. I thought they were done for, but somehow they magically rejuvenated themselves after you worked with them. You really know what you’re doing out there.”

  “Are the others very mad at me?”

  Ruby shrugged. “Some of them bitched. But you haven’t been here all that long, so I don’t think they feel an attachment one way or the other. I think they’re more upset over what Ivy’s making them do than anything.”

  “And what do you think about Ivy?”

  The other girl was silent for a long time, and Aster began to wonder she was trying to figure out a way to speak diplomatically or lie. When Ruby did speak, she averted her eyes and sounded almost afraid. “I’m kind of in an emotional clusterfuck right now, you know? I might not be the best judge of anything, come to think about it. And that’s all I can really say about anything right now.”

  Ruby had never spoken so vaguely before. What was she hiding? If she’d had the time, Aster would have probed a little more, but she wanted to be up the road to Iris’s house soon.

  “The bread smells delicious,” she said. “Do you think I could have some for breakfast before I go?”

  Ruby smiled. “I made it for you. And Bryon. Consider it my peace offering to you both after I was such a psycho bitch. It wasn’t fair for me to try and make you choose between him and me.”

  Aster remembered times throughout her childhood when Oleander would be at her most absolute vile. She would pull Aster’s hair for getting a potion ingredient wrong, kick her in the behind for not pulling weeds out of the garden fast enough. One time, she sported a bruise around her arm for three weeks after dropping a bottle of night fairy wings, which dissolved when the light hit them.

  After that last time, Oleander came back a couple hours later wearing a smile as sweet as spring rain. She was holding a sweet lavender cream pudding, Aster’s favorite. Of course, Aster never believed her aunt had acted out of true kindness or regret. No doubt, Dahlia had seen the red marks on her daughter’s arm and completely freaked out. Oleander had done it because she had to. Aster looked at the fresh strawberry bread that Ruby had baked, and her stomach gave an uneasy twist. Suddenly she didn’t want any.

  “You didn’t have to do that, Ruby.”

  “I did. I wanted to do more, but I hope over time I can make it up to you. Just know that if he ever does hurt you, I’ll be waiting.” She inverted the loaf of bread out onto a cooling rack.

  “Just have more faith in him, Ruby. Not all people are the same.”

  “Look, I meant what I said to you last night. About how I felt. I still retain the right to feel a little jealous, even if I’m proven wrong.”

  That little bit of acid in Ruby’s words actually made Aster feel a little better. Maybe she was reading too much into things.

  Ruby wrapped the loaf in silver foil and went back to her chair to retrieve a backpack that was hanging there. “You didn’t take anything with you yesterday. I packed you a bag with some water and other snacks so you won’t starve or dehydrate while you’re out doing whatever it is you’re doing. Maybe later, you and Bryon can have a picnic and share the bread. Tell him it’s from me and that he’s a lucky man.”

  Unable to find adequate words, Aster pulled Ruby into a hug. A second later, she felt Ruby’s body soften against hers and the embrace was returned. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you,” she whispered in Aster’s ear.

  Aster pulled away and adjusted the backpack over her shoulders. “Can you tell the others I’m sorry?”

  “They’ll get over it. I’ll make sure they do. Be careful out there.”

  As she approached the door, Aster heard a faint meow from the top of the stairs. Larkspur raced down and rubbed against her shins. “Wanna go outside?” she asked. He meowed again and moved to the door. It would be nice to have him along. Closing the door behind them, Aster began her walk into town with Larkspur in step.

  Halfway up the block, the cat turned and gave her a quick look before darting off across the street and into some hedges. Probably to hunt. “So much for our day together,” she called after him. Aster wasn’t worried about losing him. He was more resourceful than she was in this world.

  Many of the houses she passed were still sleeping away the early morning hours, the only life stirring among them birds who were intent on bathing or feeding on the little seed containers people put out in their yards. As she ran her hands over some drooping hedges, sending a little of her magic to perk them up again, yellow lights illuminated her from behind.

  She turned around to see a large white motor carriage pulling up beside her with a blue and red bar across the top. The window rolled down and the driver, a man with a dark brown beard and a blue uniform with a shiny gold star on the breast leaned over and peered up at her with eyes the color of his shirt. “Say there, it’s a damn sight early for a young girl such as you to be out walkin’ around alone, don’t ya think?”

  Aster felt her throat clamp down. Her mother had told her about the peacekeepers from this world and the things she would need to do to avoid encountering one, but she never imagined that walking quietly on the sidewalk would be among those things. Her face ran hot and cold as she tried to figure out what she did wrong and whether the peacekeeper would order her to get into the car and take her to jail, where she would likely rot.

  Considering your other options, that might be a better fate.

  The big man stepped out of his vehicle. Aster’s eyes traced upward as the man seemed to unfurl like a great vine. He was easily the tallest man she’d ever seen. “You’re from up at Oasis, aren’t ya? Melba Crenshaw down at Double Dips mentioned you when I stopped in for a scoop of rum raisin yesterday.”

  Aster forced her lips to unlock themselves. “Um. Yes, Sir Peacekeeper. I live at Oasis.”

  His laugh filled the morning and moved his considerable belly. “That’s a title well above my pay grade, ma’am. You’re probably feelin’ a little hog tied. I know a lot of you girls are more timid than wild rabbits, and for good reason too I bet.” He stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m the Sheriff here in this neck of the woods. Name’s Dale Kennedy.”

  Aster took his hand, which easily swallowed hers whole. But his grip was gentle.

  “You ain’t under arrest. You got to break the law first. But you’re young and pretty and I don’t want your death on my conscience if some pervert should decide to grab you when most folks haven’t even rolled out of bed yet. Miller’s Glenn ain’t like the big city, but we do have a few of our own registered sex offenders that call this place home. Where are ya headed?”

  Aster’s impending panic slowed to a needling anxiety as the sheriff spoke. Especially after he told her he wasn’t going to arrest her. He also had kind enough eyes, at least to her. But she had a feeling those eyes could become plenty mean for some lucky lawbreaker. “I’m going to visit Mama Iris. Up by the strawberry stand. She’s family.”

  Sheriff Kennedy’s eyes widened. “Mama Iris family of yours? Aw heck, I didn’t know that hermit had any family left. How come you ain’t stayin’ with her then?” He appeared to think about that a second and then laughed. “Never mind I said that. She’s as blind as a bat and has a few screws loose, don’t she? Still, a damn nice lady and grows the best strawberries I ever ate. My Missus eats herself sick with ‘em every summer. How about I give you a lift? It’s on my way.”

  Aster had been looking forward to passing the extra hours with th
e long walk, but she was pretty sure that Sheriff Kennedy would insist. She stepped toward the car door. He opened it for her from the inside and slid back over.

  The cabin of the car was dark and smelled like coffee. A little paper pine tree dangled from the back-seeing mirror, above a square box that looked like so many of the machines people used in this world. He must have noticed her looking, because he patted the top of it. “This here’s my punk catcher. I don’t imagine we’d find your name in here if we typed it in, would we?” His eyes hadn’t changed much, but they were searching for something in her face. It was his job after all.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think you will, no.”

  “Good.” He put the car into gear and pulled off. They rode in silence for the next couple minutes and then he began to speak again. “Miss Ivy’s done right by a lot of you girls since that shelter opened here. Brought a number of strays to her myself over the years, and I got a pretty close workin’ relationship with her. I’ll make sure to stop by in a little while and tell her where I dropped ya off so she won’t worry.”

  Aster felt an icicle pierce her chest. That would not be good. She didn’t want Ivy knowing where she was. And she didn’t want the peacekeeper endangering himself either. Although he didn’t look like a weak man, he wouldn’t be expecting the likes of Oleander. “She already knows where I’m headed. She even made some breakfast for me to take along so that I could share it with her. I’ll be fine, sir.”

  “Fair enough. You seem like a smart girl and I’ll take you on your word this time, but I’m gonna keep my eyes peeled for you around town later just in case.”

  He pulled the car in front of Iris’s house. The strawberry stand was just an empty box this early in the morning. Aster hesitated to get out, because it seemed like the Sheriff still had something to say to her. “Thank you for the ride,” she said. “It saved me a lot of walking in the heat.”

  His deep blue eyes continued to study her face. “That’s all part of my job. But there’s still somethin’…” He stroked his mustache as if in deep thought. He reached down to his belt and pulled off something that was clipped to it.

  “I’ve been Sheriff here almost as long as you’ve been alive. We’re quieter and more civilized than the city up the way, but Miller’s Glenn ain’t exactly Mayberry either. You probably don’t even know what that is. Anyway, what I mean to say is I’ve seen my share of missin’ kids and dead bodies. And I’ve sent a goodly number of perps to the big pen upstate. When I seen you…” He trailed off again, as if wondering how to say what was next. Aster hung by a thread, completely caught up in the man’s almost rhythmic speech.

  “You remind me of one particular girl that disappeared goin’ on two decades ago. She was my girl, actually. The love of my life. Lived in Oasis, same as you. We were crazy about each other, and like a couple dumb kids thought love was all we needed in the world to be happy. We were gonna run away together and get married. Then one day, she disappeared without a trace. They searched for a body but never found one. Later on, when I became a police officer, I did searches for her name in all the law enforcement databases, and never found one shred of nothin’. She was like a ghost.”

  He pulled out his wallet and flipped to a picture to show Aster, and her mouth dried up at the sight of the familiar curly red hair and dimpled smile. The face was young and beautiful, but it was her mother’s nonetheless. Aster’s heart was fluttering like a frightened bird high up in her chest, practically in her throat, and the cavernous motor carriage suddenly felt half its size. She could smell the coffee, but another scent mingled with it. Perhaps the cologne he wore. It is the smell of my father.

  But her eyes couldn’t meet his. She was afraid he’d really see her for who she was, and she wasn’t ready for that.

  “I know this all seems out of left field to you and you probably wonder why I’m mentioning any of this. But ever since I lost Dahlia, I’ve worked extra hard to make sure the young women of this town have a safe community. It’s why I love the Oasis as much as I do, and why I’ll do everything I can to make sure it gets the money it needs to stay open. Me and the Missus hold fundraisers for Miss Ivy twice a year. I never had any kids of my own, but I consider all the girls under that roof part of my family, and I take care of my own.”

  He held up a little black cylinder. It was compact enough to fit into the palm of his hand. “This here is pepper spray. I don’t go handin’ this stuff out to just anybody, but sometimes I just get a tickle in my spine. I know a girl who needs pepper spray when I see one. You keep it in your pocket and blast it on any sumbitch who tries to get fresh with ya. And then you run like hell, you get me? Call 911 and I’ll personally be there to take care of it.”

  Aster took the little black canister with a visibly quivering hand. Pepper spray. It sounded like something Oleander would have cooked up. “Thank you,” she said. “I will keep it close.”

  “Now head on up there. I’ll wait till she answers the door.”

  Aster stepped out of the car and risked a glance over her shoulder. Sheriff Kennedy was a monolith behind the steering wheel and he watched with eyes which, now that she thought about it, were shaped an awful lot like hers. How could she ever begin to tell him that picture he carried with him always was her mother, and that she was alive in another world? It would begin another chapter in her life that already had too many unresolved passages in it. But perhaps in time, if she lived…

  She walked fast toward Mama Iris’s peeling white farmhouse. The light from a lamp illuminated a window, and she didn’t even have to knock when Mama Iris opened the door. “I had a feelin’ you’d show up sooner than later,” said the old woman. Aster turned and waved as her father backed out of the driveway and drove back toward town.

  -23-

  Aster stepped into Mama Iris’s abode feeling numb, but when she really saw the inside of the place, her mouth dropped open. The front sitting room was nothing but books stacked from floor to ceiling. It dwarfed the collection at Bryon’s house. Not an inch of the wall space was visible behind the towers of tomes, and the same could be said for the furniture, save for the rocker situated by the window and the table lamp whose light Aster had seen from outside. A woodstove sat in the corner and the room smelled of cloves and cinnamon, a comforting scent that reminded her so much of home her heart wept a little.

  “So many books... You’ve read them all?” Aster picked up the first book she saw. The Da Vinci Code. The words made no sense to her.

  “That’s a fun one there. The folks here are real weird about their gods. Sorta like some of the folks back home, but without the wisdom or imagination. Can I pour you some iced tea? I make it special with my homegrown verbena and honey. It’ll help settle your nerves. You look like you need it.”

  “Yeah, I definitely do.” She followed the old crone into the kitchen, which was surprisingly clean and free of books. A spray of freesia sat in a vase on the little table, giving off a strong floral scent. The tea Iris handed to her was cold and delicious, and she soon let out a breath of air she didn’t realize she’d been holding in.

  “That Sheriff Kennedy is a good man, isn’t he?” Iris asked her. Aster stared into her glass of tea.

  “He’s nice.” She struggled with something more to say. Her emotions were all mixed up. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

  Iris put her hand over Aster’s and gave it a light and knowing squeeze. “He ain’t goin’ anywhere. You can bring your thoughts to him when the time is right. So just put it out of your head for now, dear girl.”

  “I will try. One thing at a time.”

  “That’s right. We have other work to do.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” Iris led them out her backdoor, which was filled with the warmth of the early morning sun. More than an acre of earth was devoted to Iris’s garden, which boasted several vegetables in addition to the strawberry vines. A grove of apple and pear tr
ees lay beyond it.

  “Do you care for this all on your own?”

  “Nah,” said Iris. “I hire out as needed, though I can count on my neighbors to lend a hand in exchange for some of the bounty. It always works out.”

  Iris hobbled around the other side of her porch and fetched several wooden baskets. “But today, you’re my worker. We’ll harvest the berries together. It’ll go real quick with the two of us. After that, we’ll see what else there is to do.”

  For the next hour, the women filled baskets full of the plump red berries. The tips of Aster’s fingers went scarlet as some of the overripe fruit squished in her hand. She healed what she could while taking note of how it made her feel. By the time they had harvested three rows of plants, her back was throbbing and several more brown spots had formed on her hands. It confirmed what she most feared. Using the Old Magic in such a way was aging her, much like it would if she passed it to her child.

  “Why does it have to happen this way?” Aster set the last basket of berries on the table with the others and showed Iris the spots on her hands.

  “It’s the universe, seekin’ balance. You give and it takes away. That always been the way of things.”

  Aster sat down and rubbed the small of her back. “But that still doesn’t explain why us. Why were we cursed with this charge to hold the magic the way we do?”

  Iris took a seat and propped up her legs on a stool. “That’s a long story best left for another day. You need to focus on the now. You can’t fix what made them women believe what they believe. You can only fix what you end up doin’ about it.”

  “Of course I know that. It’s just those prophecies they told me growing up. Are they true? They’ve echoed in my head my entire life, and I hate them.” She thought of the last time she’d recited the old tale about the evil sprite, when she ripped into the paper of her sketchbook in a fit of rage.

  “Like any prophecy, there’s a tiny bit of truth hidden in a whole bunch of bullshit. But lemme ask you somethin’. Even if it was all true. Even if it was all as your Mamma and Lily told you, would you do it?”